Miles biked: 69.6 (637.7 overall)
Time on bike: 5 hours, 49 minutes, 39 seconds
Maximum speed: 29.2 mph
Roads taken: 101 South, Otter Crest Loop, 101 South, in Newport: Spring Street, 8th Street, Coast Street, Olive Street, Elizabeth Street, Government Street ... 101 South.
Places stopped: Newport's old town (to look out at views of the Pacific), Waldport (to inquire about a place to buy a memory card; apparently, the Radio Shack in town closed before noon), at several different viewing spots above the ocean, Florence (to buy that memory card and a portable charger for my now-back-to-life iPod), gas station in Florence (to pick up mac n' cheese for dinner), Honeyman State Park (for the night).
I woke up Sunday morning fully expecting to see raindrops outside my tiny motel room. That pessimistic attitude paid off, as I was pleasantly surprised by the dryness outside. I said adios to the motel -- not exactly in a good way -- after a continental breakfast of an orange and a tiny danish and got on the road around 8:27 a.m.
My Sunday started out in frustrating fashion, as I heard my chain squeaking a bit -- meaning, Dad had told me, that I needed to oil it. So I stopped on the south side of Depoe Town to do just that. But I guess I didn't get every link, because the squeaking continued as I rode.
I decided to ignore it for a while and get some miles under the proverbial belt, considering I wanted to do about 65 for the day and reach the Honeyman State Park campground south of Florence. (I oiled it again, this time successfully, about 21 miles down the road.)
The ride turned out to be probably the best so far of this trip. The rain stayed away -- I'm still amazed that it did -- and the wind wasn't strong enough to sway my bike.
And I hugged the ocean almost the entire ride, looking out over the Pacific as I wended around curve after curve. I had to make sure to pay attention to the road enough instead of constantly gazing to my right and the extraordinary views.
I stopped in the nice, little town of Yachats -- I really should have asked somebody how it's pronounced, because that's still a small mystery to me -- for a Mexican lunch. I wanted to watch the end of the Miami-Atlanta Game 7, but the satellite receiver didn't have ABC. (Or maybe things are just different in Yachats.)
Whatever the case, I ate my chips and salsa and Chimichangas while watching the third period of the Red Wings-Ducks game. Good thing I didn't stay for the conclusion -- I would have been there until dinner watching the three overtimes.
After lunch, I walked outside and couldn't believe the sunlight that hit me. I'd never been so happy to feel it. And it was perfect for my afternoon of riding into Florence.
The highlight had to be passing Haceta Head, where yet another historic lighthouse -- I think I've passed about six of them in the state -- sat, providing me with another picture opportunity. (Taking pictures was a task, however, at that point as my 1GB memory card was full; I had to delete one each time I took a new one.)
After snapping the lighthouse picture, I prepared to ride through my second tunnel of the Oregon coast. Tunnels, like bridges, seem an eternity longer when you're on a bike -- and this one was no different.
The state makes sure to let drivers know, though, when bikers are in the tunnels. When I pushed a pedestrian-like button outside of the tunnel, a yellow light above the entrance started blinking -- alerting drivers that I was going through.
Then I entered the darkness, pumping hard in an effort to get through the thing. Yep, that's right. It's no fun biking through. The one thing I noticed is that when a car enters, the noise it makes gives you no indication as to whether it's in front of you or behind you. All you know is that you're not alone.
After about a minute or two, I got out of the tunnel and was back to riding along the ocean. After climbing a gradual hill, I couldn't help but stop not once but twice in about a 0.2-mile span that overlooks above the ocean.
One thing I noticed throughout the day is how many state-park waysides there are in the state, particularly along the Pacific. These waysides allow for motorists or, in my case, bicyclists to stop for a minute and admire the view or simply use the bathroom.
The people running the Oregon state parks know what they're doing, folks. No doubt about it.
Finally, after about 52 miles, I left the ocean behind and headed inland for Haceta Junction and then, right after that, Florence. I didn't mind getting away from the curvy roads for a while. They're great, but they also require a very alert attention -- especially when clipped into a bike (I'll experience that to an extreme on Highway 1 in Cali).
In Florence, two friendly Fred Myer employees -- for you Michiganders, Fred Myers is the "Meijers" of the Northwest -- helped me fix my iPod situation and pick out a new memory card for the camera. (I must stress again: I haven't met an unfriendly Oregonian; even the librarians are nice!)
Then, with the left knee aching a bit, I pumped out another 4 miles or so before turning into Honeyman SP a little after 6.
I couldn't believe that I'd gone a full day and only felt about 13 drops of rain. But that told me that nasty weather was intimate. So based on a tip from a biking enthusiast I met outside the Fred Myer, I didn't go to the designated hiker/biker sites but instead went to an isolated, small building with a roof.
There were no picnic tables, nowhere to put down my sleeping bag -- except on the rocky floor.
But that was enough for me.
I placed down my sleeping pad, then the bag and used random clothing items for a pillow.
And as darkness closed in around 9:01 p.m., I gradually dozed off and slept rather peacefully considering my place of rest.
And it never rained...
Aren't the librarians nice in Michigan?
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